I like to call it wishful shopping.
And I am not immune.
No, I haven’t waltzed out of a store with any actual baby things yet, but I am prepping for pregnancy in a big bad way.
Even though I’m still a month away from transferring those ice babies of mine. Even though I have no reason to believe with 100% assurance that this is going to work at all. Even though I have been let down before.
I am nesting. Preparing for pregnancy as if it were inevitable.
I went to Walgreens yesterday with the explicit purpose of buying hydrocortisone cream. I have the world’s most sensitive skin, and when the night sweats started with the injections last week; a lovely heat rash developed.
In Alaska. In October.
Let me tell you what ladies and gentlemen; give this girl some Lupron and suddenly, it’s sexytime.
While there though, for whatever reason, I sought out pregnancy tests. I don’t know why. I still have 2 left over from that last bout of craziness. I’m truly hoping that I won’t need more than that before I get a positive this time around. So why would I waste my money now on tests I don’t even need?
Who knows, but before I could think twice about it – I had a 3 pack in my basket.
I then walked over to the macaroni and cheese aisle (because in my mind, it does deserve it’s own aisle) with every intention in the world of satiating that Velveeta Shells and Cheese craving I had been fighting off for days. When I discovered that Walgreens only had blue box Kraft though, I literally had to fight back the tears.
And it was only in that moment that I realized how ridiculous this all was. It occurred to me that I was on a hormone induced crazy wave and I returned that 3 pack of pee sticks to their rightful location before making my rash cream purchase and walking out with my head hung low.
Today I hit up the grocery store with the intentions of buying out some fruits and veggies to put into my currently empty refrigerator (it was a long and hungry weekend). While wandering through the aisles though, I wound up with 5 packages of ginger chews in my basket. I like them for when the nausea kicks in on the shots, but rarely do I ever have more than one a day. Still, today I got to thinking about how much worse that nausea is going to get once I’m pregnant. I thought of every one of my pregnant friends, and all of their vomitous complaints.
I realized that I would need an industrial size supply of ginger chews if I had any hope at all of making it through a twin pregnancy without actually throwing up.
Because I do loathe throwing up.
So, I bought a buttload of ginger chews. Knowing that I don’t need them now, but hoping that I may need them soon enough.
And I don’t even really want to tell you about the overalls I’ve been eyeing online. You see, I have long had a fantasy of my pregnant behind waddling around in overalls. Back when overalls were actually cool, I used to joke that I would wear nothing but if ever I were to find myself with child. Now I realize that the only way a grown woman can get away with wearing overalls in today’s uppity fashion climate is if she is in fact sporting a serious bump.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
Yet still, I know how silly making any of these purchases really is. I know how unsure the future is and what a set up it would be to stock my house full of pregnancy necessities only to find myself not pregnant in the end. I know that those little reminders in and of themselves can be enough to cause an onslaught of tears.
When you’re in the middle of a cycle, it’s hard to step away from the wishful thinking. Difficult to remind yourself that there are no guarantees and that this very well may not work.
Because if there’s even the possibility that it might not work, why are you doing it at all? Why are you setting yourself up for any level of heartbreak if there are no guarantees?
The truth is, you do it because it’s easier than letting go of hope. Easier than walking away. Easier than quitting.
You do it, because there is still a chance it could work.
And so, I’m trying not to be too hard on myself and my wishful shopping. For now at least, it hasn’t gotten too far out of hand. Some ginger chews here, a pair of overalls there; in the end, none of it makes too big a dent.
But if anyone sees me walking out of Target with a matching crib and changing table set?
Please stop me.
And march my happy shopping butt right back into the store for a full return.
Because until I get those two pretty pink lines of my very own?
My wishful shopping had better remain in the under $50 range.
